


Mistletoe at Midnight

by Lexalicious70



Category: Smallville
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-24
Updated: 2005-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-01 04:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve, and the boys look back on their first Christmas together, where Clark's gift and the season of miracles brought Lex back from the path of darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe at Midnight

## Mistletoe at Midnight

by Shaman

<http://www.shamanswatchtower.bravehost.com/>

* * *

Mistletoe at Midnight   
Author: Shaman   
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Clark/Lex   
Spoilers: None   
Category: First time, holiday themed, romance Disclaimer: Not mine, owned by the WB, created by Millar/Gough, yadda yadda yadda. If they were mine, Lana Lang would not exist and Clark and Lex would be moving to England, where they could legally marry. Storyline copyright 2005, Secret Garden Productions. <http://www.shamanswatchtower.bravehost.com/> Come on by and visit! Feedback: Post your opinions and brickbats at the Secret Garden Journal, or email me at twotrails4860@yahoo.com. All comments are greatly appreciated, and faithfully answered. Summary: It's Christmas Eve in Smallville, and the boys reminisce about their first Christmas, when Clark's gift and the season of miracles put Lex back on the path of good. A/N: Unsettled as I was by the "Lexmas" episode of Smallville last week, I decided to write a Christmas episode of my own to get that awful taste out of my mouth. (Kudos to Mike Rosenbaum's performance in that episode, however; once again, he turned in a stellar performance and showed us a side of Lex that I for one would love to see again.) Thanks must also go to my writing partner DreamWvr73 because if not for her flashback suggestion, this might have been a much weaker story. Happy Holidays to all! (And "Merry Clexmas," of course!) 

Mistletoe at Midnight   
By Shaman 

"Lex, be careful!" 

Lex looked down at Clark from his perch atop a ladder next to the seven foot pine tree that was situated in the living room of their sprawling fifth floor Metropolis apartment. Outside the big bay windows, snow fell in thick white sheets. Lex smiled at the younger boy as he wound a brightly colored string of lights around the top of the tree, and then began to work his way down, stringing the winking pegs in even rows among the huge tree's branches. 

"Don't worry, Clark; I've become quite adept in this over the past six years. Besides, if I fall, you'd be sure to catch me." 

"That's hardly the point!" The teenager picked up a box filled with fragile glass ornaments and carefully shook the top loose. As he began to unwrap each ornament from its thick tissue paper cocoon, Lex climbed down off the ladder and strung the last row of lights on the bottom branches of the tree. 

"There." He smiled up at Clark. "What do you think?" 

"It looks great," Clark replied, and kissed Lex briefly on the lips before he went back to unwrapping the ornaments. Lex took the box from his hands and sat down on the couch, tugging Clark down next to him. Nearby, the fireplace crackled and glowed and gave off a sublime heat that only added to the peaceful atmosphere. He handed Clark a tall glass of eggnog spiced with cinnamon from a tray nearby. 

"Let's take a break. It's early." 

"Almost nine," Clark replied with a glance at his watch, and Lex slipped an arm around his shoulders. A pale, slender hand slid down Clark's muscular arm, and moment later his watch was sliding off his wrist, and vanishing into the pocket of Lex's slacks. 

"Hey!" 

"We're on vacation, college boy," Lex replied. "That means no work-related phone calls, e-mails, pagers or beepers for me . . . and no timetables for you." 

"But we have to have the tree done by midnight-" 

And we will. We always do," Lex said with a soft chuckle, and sipped his eggnog. It was cool and thick, and left a thick moustache on his upper lip that he licked away with his tongue. Clark watched, thoughts of ornaments and schedules rapidly flying out of his head as Lex's tongue flickered over his upper lip like a cat lapping up cream. 

"Guess after this semester, being on a schedule is a hard habit to break." 

"You worked hard your first semester at Kansas State, Clark, and I'm real proud of you. Straight A's across the board." Lex hugged him with one arm, and Clark sighed. 

"Thanks Lex, but sometimes I can't help but feel like I'm cheating because of my abilities. I seem to remember everything I read, no matter what it is." 

"Nonsense. Your gifts give you an edge, Clark, but the time and effort you put into school are what's important, and you worked really hard this semester. You deserve the grades that you got." 

"I guess," Clark sighed, and looked up at the tree. Lex studied him for a moment, and then Clark turned to catch his eye. His expression softened. "What is it?" 

"It's nothing. I was just thinking of the first Christmas we spent together." 

"The first year you came to Smallville," Clark smiled, and Lex nodded. 

"God, you were so young." 

"And you were so arrogant," Clark smiled, looking at Lex askance and then ducking as his lover took a playful swing at him. 

"Can you blame me? I'd grown up in Metropolis my whole life, and then my dad exiles me to a place like Smallville." 

"Where you proceeded to make me question everything about my life from the moment we met," Clark laughed, and Lex nodded. 

"Believe me, Clark; concealing my feelings for you wasn't easy for me, either." 

"I remember the way Chloe looked at me that night when she gave me a ride to the mansion. It was snowing, and I wanted to give you your gift . . ." 

* * *

"What is it about snow on Christmas Eve that turns even a place like Smallville into a Rockwell painting?" 

Clark turned to grin at Chloe as she guided her Volkswagen though a dense curtain of snow, the wipers slapping rhythmically back and forth as fat, wet flakes, the kind Clark knew would stick together to make perfect snowballs, drifted onto the windshield. It was six p.m., and the last of the day's muted sunlight had faded from the sky a half an hour earlier. 

"Mom always said that a heavy snowfall can make anything look beautiful. Then again, she usually said it as she was handing me the snow shovel," He replied, and Chloe chuckled as she carefully rounded a curve in the road. Up ahead, Lex's mansion loomed in the VW's headlights. 

"One of the many disadvantages of having the X chromosome," She replied, and glanced down at the box in Clark's hands. It was wrapped neatly in iridescent paper that was a pale lavender color, and when Clark shifted slightly in his seat, the car's interior lights reflected off the paper, and off the matching bow that adorned the box's top. "So, who helped you wrap Lex's gift?" 

"What makes you think I didn't wrap it?" 

"I've seen you handiwork when it comes to wrapping gifts, Clark, and it isn't one of your talents." 

Clark pressed his lips together briefly. "My mom did it, okay?" 

Chloe thought of her own gift from Clark, a pretty patterned sweater that had come in a gift bag, stuffed rather crookedly with too much tissue paper. "It must be something pretty special." 

"I wanted it to look nice, what's wrong with that?" Clark asked abruptly, and Chloe put her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender as she pulled up to the gates of the mansion. 

"Okay okay! Jeez, no need to give it to me with both barrels, Clark. Peace on earth and all that stuff, remember?" 

"Right," Clark smiled as he opened his door and leaned over to kiss Chloe on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, and thanks for the ride." 

"No problem," Chloe replied through a blush, and waited until Clark closed the passenger side door before putting the car into drive again. Clark waved as she drove off, and then pressed the buzzer on the side of the gate. He was admitted, as always, and walked up the long driveway with his gift in both hands. As he climbed the steps, the heavy front door swung open and the light from the hallway illuminated the form of a big, tall woman in a starched blue and white maid's uniform. Her gray hair was done up in a bun, and the stern lines of her face softened slightly when she peered into Clark's upturned face. Clark smiled at her. 

"Hi, Greta. Merry Christmas." 

"And a Merry Christmas to you too, young Master Kent. Come in now, before you freeze!" The big woman ordered in a firm tone that was laced with a heavy German accent. Greta Kerr had been the Luthors' head housekeeper since Lex's early teens, and Lex had brought her from Metropolis to the mansion when he'd moved to Smallville. Not only was she in charge of the six other maids who cleaned the mansion, she had also recently taken over the kitchen when the head cook had quit, leaving her in charge of three chefs and the monthly grocery delivery. It was because of the deliveries that Clark had gotten to know her, as he delivered organic fruits and vegetables from his parents' farm to Lex's doorstep once a week. Greta was fond of Clark because he was polite, neat and clean, and always remembered to wipe his feet before coming into the house. He was also of the same age and temperament that Greta's youngest boy had been when she lost him to leukemia back in Germany many years ago, a fact that the strong-willed woman had never confided to either Lex or Clark. While the bright and handsome dark-haired American boy could never replace her lost son, his sweet smile eased some of the ache in Greta's heart. 

"Thanks." Clark stepped inside and stamped his feet to warm them and to knock the snow from his boots. Before he peeled off his jacket, he reached into the pocket and withdrew a small wrapped package, which he handed to Greta. "This is for you. It's not much . . ." 

"How sweet you are, libchen." She opened the package to find a small box of her favorite chocolates, for which she patted Clark's cheeks with affection. Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Clark smiled, and Greta looked down at the wrapped box in Clark's other hand. "And that is for Mr. Luthor?" 

"Yeah, it's for Lex. Is he in the study?" 

"He is late coming home tonight, but he should not be much longer." 

"Oh. Well . . . I'll just put it under the tree, then." Clark walked through the kitchen and down the hall, turned left, and went down another hall to the large room where Lex spent most of his time--the study. He pushed open the heavy double doors, but stopped and frowned as he looked around the room. Everything looked as it usually did; Lex's laptop was closed and in sleep mode on his big desk, the scotch decanters were filled and sat alongside clean tumblers on the wet bar in the corner, and the stained glass windows gleamed in the dim lighting. Greta stood behind him, her expression somber. Clark turned to her. 

"I thought that Lex would have put the tree in here, since this is where he spends the most time. Is it in another room?" 

Greta shook her head. "No, Clark. Mr. Luthor does not have a Christmas tree." 

"No tree? But it's Christmas Eve! It's going to be hard for him to get one tonight, especially in this weather," Clark said, and Greta put a big, work-worn hand on his broad shoulder. 

"You have never celebrated a Christmas with Mr. Luthor before," She said gently. 

"No. I met Lex just this year, right after school started." 

"Then there is something you should know. Mr. Luthor does not have a tree tonight, nor has he had one on Christmas for the past seven years . . . since his mother died. After she was gone, Mr. Luthor Senior no longer celebrated Christmas. It is a tradition he has since passed down to his son. I thought that perhaps moving here might change his mind about the holiday, but when the staff approached the subject, Mr. Luthor made it quite clear. There were to be no decorations, no gifts, and no tree. Just bonuses . . . generous ones, mind you, but he wanted nothing for himself." Greta sighed and patted Clark's shoulder. "I think any joy that came with Christmas for Mr. Luthor died along with his mother. You can leave his gift on desk, if you like. He is sure to see it there." 

"Thanks, Greta," Clark walked over to the desk and set the box down next to Lex's laptop. The big woman turned away from the doorway and walked back down the hall, leaving Clark alone in the study. 

_It never even occurred to me that Lex might not celebrate Christmas because he lost his mom, Clark thought. But it's not right . . . Lex has friends now, people who care about him, he can't just keep pretending there's no such thing as Christmas!_ Clark turned and looked around the study. _Plenty of room for a tree in here_ . . . 

A slow smile curved across Clark's face and he sped from the room and down the hall, where a back door led out to the lawn. He sped across the lawn and vaulted over the tall security gate, the smile never leaving his face. If Lex didn't have Christmas at the mansion, then it was up to Clark to bring it. 

* * *

"A Christmas tree? Lights, decorations, tinsel . . . at seven o'clock on Christmas Eve . . . in a snowstorm." Jonathan Kent sighed and shook his head as his adopted son stood in front of him, dusted with snow and staring at him anxiously. "I'm sorry son, but I don't see how that's going to be possible, even if it is Christmas and it's a time for miracles." 

"But dad, Lex's housekeeper says that Lionel Luthor wouldn't let Lex celebrate Christmas after his mom died! He hasn't had a tree or gifts since he was fourteen! What kind of father does that to his son?" 

"Clark . . . the Luthors aren't exactly your typical family, and anyone who knows anything about Lionel Luthor knows that he's not exactly father of the year material." 

"But that doesn't mean Lex shouldn't have a Christmas, dad! He's my friend and I care about him . . . and Christmas should be a happy time for everyone, even if that someone is a Luthor." 

Jonathan sighed and set down his coffee cup. "Son . . ." He began, but then the pleading, altruistic expression in his son's wide green eyes made him hesitate. Finally, he nodded. "All right. There's an extra set of old lights in the crawl space in the attic, but I don't know if they work. Your mother might have some extra ornaments up there too and if you can find them, you can take them--if you bring them back after Christmas!" 

Clark's grin was wide and bright, and he hugged his dad impulsively. "Thanks, dad!" 

"Just--" There was a rush of air, and Clark was gone before Jonathan could finish his sentence. "--be careful," He sighed, and went to the counter to refill his coffee cup. 

As his father had predicted, there was an extra set of twinkle lights in the crawl space, along with a dusty old box with the Sears logo imprinted on its lid. The box was full of ornaments, the old-fashioned kind that were shaped like spires and decorated with glitter. Clark plugged the lights into an outlet nearby, and they flickered to life. Pleased, he yanked the plug from the socket and bundled everything down to his father's truck. The string of lights and a few ornaments were a start, but he still needed more of each, and a tree. Snow was still falling heavily, dusting Clark's curly hair as he stood by the truck, frowning in thought. 

_Where am I going to get that stuff?_ He thought to himself. _I only have twenty bucks and besides, most of the stores have already closed. I don't know anyone who has a bunch of extra stuff that they could afford to give away_ \- 

Clark's eyes widened as an idea struck him, and he jumped into the pickup. As he keyed the engine, he prayed that the person he had in mind to play helper elf would have enough Christmas spirit to help him out with his plan. 

* * *

"Uh, okay . . . let's rewind here. You want me to get my keys to the Torch office, go with you to the school in a snowstorm, haul out the Christmas tree, lights and decorations that took me all afternoon to put away the last day of school, and then drive you back to Lex's mansion so you can decorate . . . all because he's Scroogitis and doesn't believe in Christmas?" Chloe stood in the doorway of her house, gazing up at Clark in disbelief. "No offense, but I think that someone's been spiking the Kent family eggnog with more than just vanilla extract this year!" 

"Come on Chloe, I know it seems like a lot to ask, but--" 

"It doesn't seem like a lot Clark, it is a lot! Maybe you haven't noticed, but we're in the middle of what looks to be like a pretty bad storm. You should have stayed at Lex's and waited for him instead of running off with this half-baked idea of playing Santa!" 

"It's important, Chloe! Lex doesn't have gifts or a tree, and it's all because of his father. No one deserves to spend Christmas alone," Clark insisted. 

"Lex isn't exactly fourteen anymore, and I'm sure if he wanted lights and a tree at the mansion, he would have gotten the best that money could buy, Clark. Has it occurred to you that he's the one that might not want these things?" 

"He does want them, I'm sure! He just doesn't know what he wants them, and I know that once he sees the tree and the decorations, he'll realize what he's been missing all these years!" 

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and peered up at Clark intently. "Why is Lex's personal happiness so important to you?" She asked quietly, and Clark shook his head. 

"I just--" 

"First the gift, lovingly hand-wrapped, and now this," Chloe continued to gaze at him until Clark shifted uncomfortably and looked away from her. Suddenly her eyes widened. 

"Oh my God," She whispered and grabbed Clark by one snow-encrusted arm, pulling him into the hallway. She slammed the door behind them and ushered him down the hall into the den, which was deserted. "Clark why didn't you tell me?" She whispered fiercely, and Clark's cheeks reddened as he brushed snow from his coat. 

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about." 

"Oh, don't try and BS me, Clark Kent! The wrap job on Lex's gift, the time you spend together, and now this whole Christmas thing . . . you're in love with him, aren't you!" 

"Just . . . lower your voice, okay?" Clark hissed at her, his jaw clenching in irritation, and Chloe took his hands. 

"No, Clark . . . it's okay! Really, it is! I kind of always suspected ever since you two met, but I wasn't sure if . . ." She squeezed his big hands with hers. "Does Lex know? Does he feel the same way?" 

"I don't know. I doubt it. Just, please--smother your inner journalist and don't say anything to anyone, okay? I mean . . . I'm not even sure of my own feelings yet." 

"Of course, Clark." Chloe stepped forward and hugged him. "I swear on my ISP . . . you can count on me." 

Clark broke the embrace and gazed down at her with his best doe eyes. "For everything?" He asked, and Chloe rolled her eyes as she heaved a gusty sigh. 

"Both Santa's helper and cupid, too. I'm definitely putting in for holiday overtime." 

* * *

Smallville had seen over seven inches of snow by the time Clark and Chloe returned from pilfering The Torch's six-foot artificial tree and it's decorations from the office closet at Smallville High. Clark pulled up in front of Chloe's home at a little after ten p.m., and she turned to smile at him. 

"You're sure about this?" 

"Yeah. No matter what other feelings I have for Lex, he's also my friend and I want him to know it." 

"And those other feelings?" Chloe asked softly, and Clark sighed. 

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just confused." 

Chloe reached over and took Clark's hand. "I don't think you're confused, Clark. The bravest thing that a person can do is act on their feelings, and take the chance of getting hurt." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I hope Lex knows that. Good luck, Clark." Chloe squeezed his hand one more time before slipping out of the passenger seat and making her way up the freshly-plowed driveway. Clark made sure she was safely inside before he put the truck in gear once more, and headed back toward Lex's. 

The mansion was dark and quiet, the servants all having retired to their quarters for the evening to celebrate the holiday amongst themselves. A quick X-ray of the building revealed that Lex hadn't returned, so Clark tossed the tree over the security fence near the back door, and then jumped the steel enclosure with the box of ornaments and lights tucked under one arm. He opened the back door, and began to drag the tree down the hall to Lex's study. Once he had everything inside, he closed both the back door and the doors to the study, and went to work. 

* * *

Lex rubbed his right hand across his eyes as he pulled his Porsche into the heated twenty car garage behind the mansion. It was a quarter to midnight, and the young billionaire had spent the evening sitting in his office alone where he had shuffled papers around and thrown himself into planning events for the new year until he had finally managed to forget the fact that it was Christmas Eve. 

_A night for ghosts_ Lex thought to himself as he closed the garage door with his remote and walked toward the back door. _People say that Halloween is a time for spirits, but all of those ghosts and goblins have nothing on the ghosts of the past. The ghost of a memory never dies._

He opened the back door and walked down the hall to his study. The mansion was dark and quiet, and Lex tried not to entertain thoughts of Ebenezer Scrooge as snow continued to float past the windows outside. He pushed open the doors of his study, contemplating a nice glass of port and a hot shower before bed. He stepped into the room, and the sight that met him made his eyes widen; the briefcase he carried dropped from his hand. It hit the hardwood floor with a resounding thud, and Clark Kent turned from the large Christmas tree that he was currently stringing with bright strands of red and green garland. Strings of bright lights ran the perimeter of the room along the ceiling, the tree took up one whole corner of the room, and a beautifully wrapped gift sat under it, resting on a tree skirt that was decorated with glitter. Lex blinked, speechless, and Clark stepped forward, the soft glow of the tree's lights reflecting off his dark hair. 

"Merry Christmas, Lex." He said softly, and his tone made Lex's heart squeeze with a longing that he never expected would be fulfilled. He cleared his throat and picked up the briefcase, gathering his wits as well. 

"The same to you, Clark," He said carefully as he crossed the room and set his briefcase down on the desk next to his laptop. "I have to say that I wasn't expecting you to be here at a quarter to midnight on Christmas Eve . . . a time for family. Surely the Kents have some kind of Christmas Eve tradition? Eggnog and the perennial viewing of It's a Wonderful Life, maybe?" 

Clark flinched. "No, not really. My parents have probably been in bed for a couple of hours now." 

"Fair enough. It still doesn't tell me what you're doing here, and with all this Christmas paraphernalia." 

"Well . . . I came here to give you your Christmas present, and when you weren't here, I thought I could just leave it under your tree. Then I found out that you didn't have a tree, and that you haven't had one for seven years." 

Lex made a mental note to look into the possibility of having his housekeeper's tongue surgically removed, and sighed impatiently. "Look Clark, I'm sure that Greta told you some kind of sob story about the sad little rich boy who hasn't celebrated Christmas since his mother died, but the truth is, there's more to it than that." 

Clark shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Lex, if I screwed up by doing this, I'm sorry. I just thought--" 

"No, Clark. It's all right. It's not that I don't appreciate the effort. In fact, you've done a wonderful job," Lex praised, looking over the lights and the tree. "It's just that I've grown accustomed to thinking of Christmas as just another day of the year." 

"But that's just it, Lex! It's not!" Clark insisted, and Lex's pale brows arched upward. 

"I can understand why you feel that way, coming from a family such as yours . . . but the Luthors are nothing like the Kents, Clark, and after my mother died, my father and I just couldn't fake the whole holiday togetherness thing. We were like strangers, and it was just easier for us to hold my mother's memory each in our way than to get together once a year, pretend to be a family, and mourn her together." 

"But you're not a child anymore Lex and I'm sure your mom would want you to be happy, and not just at Christmas. I brought you all this stuff to remind you that Christmas isn't about who's missing from your life, it's about being with the people who are here . . . and who love you." 

Lex hesitated, and a tiny seed of hope took root in his chest. He strolled over to the tree, and looked down at the finely wrapped square box sitting underneath it. 

"That's quite a nice wrap job, Clark. You say it's for me?" 

Clark nodded and his big fingers nervously wound around one another. "Yeah. It's not much, but . . ." 

Lex picked the box up. "I'm flattered, Clark. Thank you. May I open it?" 

"Uhm . . . sure," Clark shrugged, and Lex untied the lavender bow. He removed the iridescent paper carefully, and laid it aside as well. He broke the piece of tape that held down the lid on the small white box, and then popped the top open. Clark watched anxiously as his friend peered inside, and then Lex's expression changed from one of curiosity to one of open disbelief. He slipped his right hand into the box and lifted the fine crystal ornament from the tissue paper inside. The glass was finer than spun sugar and appeared to be completely transparent, but when Lex held it up to the light, the interior of the globe seemed to come to life with shimmering hues of purple, lavender and a shade of violet so light that Lex wasn't sure if he was even seeing it or not. The ornament's top was a scalloped, burnished gold. Clark smiled hopefully. 

"It's a tradition in my family that started with my mom's great grandmother. When she left home and she and her husband bought their own house and got their first Christmas tree, the first gift they got that Christmas from the family was an ornament for the tree. My mom's mom got one when she got married, and my mom got one when she married my dad. Since this is your new house and your first tree, I thought I'd continue the tradition," Clark reached out and touched the ornament gently. "The ornament is supposed to bring you good luck, happiness in your home for as long as you live there . . . and it symbolizes the love that the person who gives it has for . . . the person they give it to." He explained quietly, his voice faltering, and Lex's head came up sharply. 

"Clark?" He questioned, his eyes fixed on the boy who refused to meet his gaze. Lex opened his mouth to speak again, and Clark's cheeks blazed scarlet in the dim light of the room. 

"I'm sorry. I . . . I gotta go. Merry Christmas, Lex," Clark mumbled, and turned to scramble for the door. 

"Clark wait," Lex said, and the boy froze with his hand wrapped around the bronze door handle, his back set with anxiety. Lex smiled in understanding, and a sensation of sweet relief tinged with excitement that burned in his belly like fine scotch. 

Clark turned, his green eyes wide, and Lex glanced toward the tree. 

"You went to all this trouble to convince me that Christmas was a time to be with the people you care about . . . wouldn't it be kind of counterproductive if you left now?" 

"I--I guess so," Clark replied quietly, and Lex motioned him forward, the ornament in his hand. 

"Come on, help me hang this on the tree," He said, and reached up as far as he could in order to hang the ornament where a bare spot was visible. He stretched, and then Clark's big, warm hand was closing over his to help secure the hook over the branch. Lex's heart leapt in his chest like a spirited colt, and he turned his face up to look at Clark. Clark looked down into his friend's smoky blue-gray eyes, and the corners of Lex's mouth quirked up slightly. 

"I'm very glad that you're here, Clark." He whispered, and Clark's dark head dropped down, negating the space between them. Lex's eyes slipped closed as Clark's full, warm lips pressed against his in an inexperienced but passion-filled kiss. Clark's hand dropped from the tree to rest on Lex's shoulder, and then it slid down one lean arm and then around his trim waist. Lex leaned against Clark's broad chest as they slid to the floor in a liquid tangle of arms and legs, and tumbled over to land in front of the fireplace. Clark straddled the older boy, fumbling with the buttons on Lex's pale gray shirt. Lex slid his pale hands underneath Clark's t-shirt, spreading his fingers out over the smooth, firm skin. Clark groaned softly and lowered his head to nibble at Lex's neck. 

"So long . . . wanted this for so long, Lex . . . but was so afraid to tell you." 

"I know . . . I know. It's all right, Clark. It's all right, I'm here now." Lex replied. As Clark opened Lex's shirt and began to blaze a trail down his chest with his lips, Lex closed his eyes again and thought of the snow that was falling outside, pure and white, touching everything with its luminous glow. . . like the boy who was touching him now. He could feel Clark's light, his goodness; forces that would drive back the darkness that threatened Lex's soul, perhaps even destroy it. He relaxed under the teen's increasingly urgent touch, putting his heart and soul into the hands of the one person he dared to love since his mother had died, and took a chance on the passion he sensed in Clark's touch. The clock on the mantle above the boys struck midnight, and Lex noticed that Clark had hung a piece of mistletoe there--as if he had dared to hope too, and had taken a chance of his own. Clark raised his head and followed Lex's gaze, and then grinned at Lex over the ridge of the older boy's flat belly. 

"Merry Christmas, Lex." 

"Merry Christmas, Clark." 

* * *

Lex chuckled and sipped his eggnog. "For a boy who was barely sixteen, you sure were passionate."

Clark rolled his eyes and dug his elbow gently into Lex's side. "You didn't exactly hold back yourself, you know." 

"Maybe not, but I'm still impressed that you had the courage to tell me the truth . . . about everything," Lex replied, and rested his head on Clark's broad shoulder. 

"My dad always said, `tell the truth and shame the devil.'" 

Lex chuckled deep in his throat. "I was under the impression that I was the devil . . . or at least he looked at me like I was, when you told him and your mother that you were moving in with me this last fall." 

"They got over it," Clark replied as he put his arm around Lex and rubbed his shoulder. "After all, it was kind of hard for them to accept heat vision, X-ray vision, super-speed and strength . . . and not accept this." 

Lex burst into laughter. "Excellent point." He picked up his eggnog and took another sip, but this time Clark leaned forward and kissed him, sucking off the moustache that it left behind. Lex glanced at him in surprise, and then grinned suggestively. "You know, two can play at that game." He turned and pushed Clark down onto his back, yanked up his sweater, and splashed the rest of the thick white liquid onto his chest. Clark yelped in surprise and Lex straddled him, his eyes bright. 

"Lex, the couch!" Clark exclaimed as some of the eggnog ran down his ribs and onto the fabric. 

"Scotch-guard." Lex growled, and attacked his lover's chest. Clark's back arched in pleasure and he groaned his lover's name as Lex covered his rapidly stiffening nipples with his mouth and sucked on them until Clark cried out in wordless pleasure. Lex grinned triumphantly at the sound, and hoped that there was more eggnog in the fridge. 

An hour later, after a quick, shared shower, the boys walked back into the living room in their robes. It was ten to midnight, and Lex glanced out at the snow as it fell past the big bay windows. He flicked off the lights, leaving the room to the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree. Clark looked over at him as he stood there, staring up at the tree. 

"Lex? Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine. I was just thinking about how close I was to walking the path my father had set for me when I arrived in Smallville, and how what you did that night drove all of that away. If you hadn't had the courage to tell me how you felt, I would have stayed on that path until I became just like him." He walked over to an armoire in the corner and unlocked the bottom drawer. It contained only one item--a square white box whose lid had a sharp crease from being opened and closed many times. He lifted it carefully, and Clark grinned. 

"And I would have spent the rest of my life hiding who I really was . . . in more than one way; trying to conceal my feelings for you by going after Lana, when all I really ever felt for her was friendship." 

"I think she sensed that, Clark, hence her constant hostility toward you." Lex smirked, and set the box on the coffee table. He reached inside, and held up the ornament that Clark had given him five years earlier. There had been others since then, but none so important, none that symbolized the beginning of their relationship. "You ready?" 

"Yeah." Clark glanced up at the bare spot on the tree that they always reserved for the ornament, and watched as Lex reached up for it. He closed his hand over Lex's and helped him hang the hook over the branch, just as they had done at midnight on Christmas Eve for the past five years. The clock on the mantle struck twelve, and Clark lowered his head to kiss his lover gently on the lips. Lex returned the kiss and reached down to take Clark's hand. He led the younger boy over to the fireplace, where their traditional piece of mistletoe had been placed every year, hanging down from the mantle. They sunk down onto the thick white-furred rug together into front of the fire, side by side, and Lex ran a hand through Clark's thick curls. 

"Merry Christmas." 

"Merry Christmas, Lex." Clark smiled back, and slipped his arm around Lex's waist. Lex leaned his head on Clark's shoulder as they watched the fire crackle and flicker, and felt the absolute peace of the evening close in around them. Lex sighed in contentment, and glanced up at Clark. 

"You were right about one thing that night five years ago, Clark." 

"Oh? What was that?" 

"The most important thing about this day is being with the people who love you." 

"It is," Clark nodded, and Lex slipped an arm around his lover's waist. His strong, calming presence drove back the darkness in Lex's soul, and made the demons there shrink smaller and smaller as time went on. Soon they would vanish altogether, leaving only Lex, a young man who would finally obtain the one thing that had been eluding him since the day his mother's coffin had been lowered into the ground; he would have the happiness that she had always wanted for him. Lex closed his eyes, and listened to the rhythm of Clark's heartbeat--strong, steady . . . eternal. 

"Then I think that we're both exactly right where we belong." 

**THE END**

Read this story and much more at Shaman's Secret Garden. <http://www.shamanswatchtower.bravehost.com/>

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